Jason sank to his knees as smoke swallowed the sky, the color of it an angry crimson, like the world itself was bleeding. The house before him, her house, collapsed in slow motion, boards shrieking and crumbling as if mourning their own destruction.

His chest caved with a ragged sob, the kind that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than his lungs, deeper even than his body. Everything around him blurred—faces, sirens, flames—until all that remained was the ash.

He should have looked away. Should have closed his eyes.

But he didn't. He couldn't.
The paramedics moved solemnly through the smoke, their silhouettes stark against the firelit haze. The stretchers were draped in white sheets—too still, too final. He counted them without meaning to.
One... two... three.
Jason didn't flinch. His heart was hollowed out, like something had been carved from within him with a hot blade.
It should've been him.
Not Selena.
"No," he whispered hoarsely, his voice splintering. "No, it can't be."
He stumbled backward, eyes wide, brain refusing to bridge the gap between what he saw and what he believed. Reality came in slow waves, each one more unbearable than the last. And then he was moving, sprinting toward the stretchers with a desperate, raw urgency. A rescuer with no one left to save.
"Selena," he choked, reaching trembling hands toward the nearest form.
The heat of the fire still lingered in the air, as if the world itself was scorched. He lifted the sheet with shaking fingers. What stared back at him was no longer her face—just blackened skin, unrecognizable. His mind rejected it. It can't be her. It isn't.

…then turns back to me with fire still in her eyes.


"I'm not done with you," she says, voice low, like a promise. Like a warning.


And damn if that doesn't undo me completely.


I lean my head back against the headrest, closing my eyes for just a second trying to breathe, trying to get my heart to slow the hell down. Her body's still pressed against mine, her hands resting on my shoulders, her forehead nearly touching mine again.


"Selena," I whisper. Like a prayer. Like a curse. "You don't get it. I'm already gone for you."


She pulls back just slightly, her eyes searching mine. There's something deeper in her now—beneath the flirtation, the fire. A softness. A hesitation.


"Then why do I still feel like you're hiding something?"


I should laugh it off, brush her hair behind her ear, kiss her again until she forgets she even asked.


Chapter 69 - Warehouse 17